


Tap, tap, tapping on the glass

by ToxicPineapple



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Friendship, Fluff, Friendship, Fuck you they're friends, Gen, Good friendship, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I Do Not Vibe With The Junko Enoshima, Junko Enoshima while only mentioned is a horrible irredeemable piece of shit, Junko sympathisers get out of my sight, Mukuro is going through it, Platonic Relationship, at the end, song title doesn't have anything to do with the fic it just vibes properly ya know, you gotta have the crying first ya know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: Rantaro thinks that this song is probably good enough for tonight, at least until he can find his pick, because his fingers are getting tired from strumming. As he gets to his feet, stretching out his lower back and moving to put his guitar back on its stand, he hears a light tapping on his window and turns around. For a moment he’s struck with a small concern that it’s some gang he pissed off in a foreign country coming to pick him off at home (which is a totally valid fear because it’s happened before on a few occasions) but after a moment, even squinting through the dark, he sees that it’s his friend Mukuro.So he side steps his bed and unlatches the window without a second thought, pulling it open all the way and reaching out a hand to help her in.---Rantaro is about to go to bed when he receives a visitor at his window. But hey. That's what best friends are for, right?
Relationships: Amami Rantaro & Ikusaba Mukuro
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	Tap, tap, tapping on the glass

**Author's Note:**

> on the outside, always looking in  
> will i ever be more than i've always been?  
> 'cause i'm tap, tap, tappin' on the glass  
> i'm waving through a window  
> i try to speak but nobody can hear  
> so i wait around for an answer to appear  
> while i'm watch, watch, watching people pass  
> waving through a window
> 
> -waving through a window, dear evan hansen

Rantaro likes to get a little bit of guitar practice in before falling asleep.

He doesn’t have trouble falling asleep, per se-- actually, most days, upon arriving home, Rantaro is so exhausted that he hits the pillows and falls asleep immediately. But after he wakes up from his initial crash, he tries to pull himself out of bed again to, like, brush his teeth and take out his piercings and all of that good stuff. Maintaining good personal hygiene is really important to him! Plus sleeping with piercings in is uncomfortable. If it was just lobe piercings he could manage, but Rantaro tends to toss and turn in his sleep and the cartilage piercings… yeah.

(He leaves in the eyebrow piercing, though. He’s not an idiot.)

After that, to wind down a little bit because he usually can’t fall asleep right away, it’s guitar time. Nothing dramatic or loud. His walls are pretty thick, actually, but he’s not good enough yet for stuff like that and before bed he prefers the more quiet pieces, to be honest. His friend Ibuki has invited him to a couple of her rock concerts and he’s gone, but for his own pleasure… besides, he’s got an acoustic guitar. He’d be hard pressed to play any kind of heavy metal on the thing.

He hasn’t been playing the guitar for very long, just for about half a year, but he’s not too shabby. Definitely not good enough to have played it in front of anyone, but it’s a nice instrument to play on his own time. Rantaro knows how to play the ukulele, and it’s not too much of a difficult transition? But he wasn’t that good at the ukulele to begin with and he’s not taking formal classes (because he would for sure get bored of the instrument if he took formal classes) so he’s nothing worth talking about. It’s still a nice thing to do to unwind, though. And his singing voice is okay for when he’s alone in his room. Rantaro is pretty sure he lacks the  _ cojones  _ for anything else.

Tonight Rantaro doesn’t bother pulling up the chords for any new songs, just starts playing a song he learned on a trip to Bermuda a few months ago. The song is in English (as Bermuda is not a Japanese territory so most songs to be learned in Bermuda are typically not going to be in Japanese) and it’s the kind of slow, quiet thing that would for sure put him to sleep were he not the one playing it. As things are, Rantaro listens to the sounds of the guitar strings, the almost crunchy feeling they give when he twists his fingers into different chords, and enjoys the sound as it fills his room.

It’s a quiet night. Usually Rantaro doesn’t like them. It’s pretty rare that he likes nights like this one, to be completely honest. Rantaro gets bored pretty easily-- or maybe bored is the wrong word? Bored is more for when he’s at some formal event for his father’s company and everyone just keeps on talking and talking, about things Rantaro could give less of a shit about, no less. It’s more like, when Rantaro isn’t stimulated properly, he gets a sticky and warm and draining kind of feeling.

Not exhaustion, at least not in a physical sense. Like, theoretically Rantaro could have plenty of energy. But it’s the kind of feeling he gets when it’s too hot and he doesn’t have a waterbottle and there’s no shade so he’s just standing under the sun, and the heat is working its way into his joints and his chest, and he lacks all desire to move-- couldn’t if he wanted to actually because everything is turning green and he doesn’t think it’s a result of the light.

Maybe that’s just like, cabin fever, though. Rantaro doesn’t really know what to call it. He’s not around consistently enough to have a therapist, or honest enough to rely on one if he had one.

Rantaro thinks that this song is probably good enough for tonight, at least until he can find his pick, because his fingers are getting tired from strumming. As he gets to his feet, stretching out his lower back and moving to put his guitar back on its stand, he hears a light tapping on his window and turns around. For a moment he’s struck with a small concern that it’s some gang he pissed off in a foreign country coming to pick him off at home (which is a totally valid fear because it’s happened before on a few occasions) but after a moment, even squinting through the dark, he sees that it’s his friend Mukuro.

So he side steps his bed and unlatches the window without a second thought, pulling it open all the way and reaching out a hand to help her in. If it was anyone other than Mukuro standing outside his window, this would be some cause for concern, since Rantaro’s room is on the third floor of his house. However, since it  _ is  _ Mukuro, and not anybody else, he doesn’t think too hard about it. She’s perfectly capable of scaling the outside of his house. They call her the Ultimate Soldier for a reason.

There are a couple of other things that Rantaro is worried about instead. Namely, Mukuro always calls before she comes over, and Rantaro mutes everyone else because he frankly can’t be bothered but his ringer is always on for Mukuro. It’s actually been a couple of weeks since they’ve seen each other, given that it’s summer vacation and they haven’t had a reason to… see each other consistently outside of school. But they’ve texted plenty. Rantaro would have known had she been planning a visit.

Also, when Mukuro grasps his forearm to be pulled inside, her grip is tight. Almost painful, even. As Rantaro steadies her, reaching past her to shut and latch the window again, he notes that Mukuro is shaking.

“You alright?” Rantaro asks quietly, and follows up with, “Are you hurt?”

He trusts that whatever answer Mukuro is planning on giving him will be genuine, but regardless, after asking, he takes a step back and rests a light hand on her shoulder to give her a quick once over. She doesn’t flinch away from the touch, on the contrary; she seems to lean closer to his hand where he places it on her shoulder. (Rantaro goes ahead and brushes his thumb over her neck, rubbing in circles where he knows knots tend to form from her hunching over all the time.) She seems okay, though. Physically, at least. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her breathing is shaky, but the grey sweater and darker jeans that she’s wearing are unstained. She doesn’t move like someone who’s injured. Rantaro has had plenty of experience watching people in that position to know.

From what he can see of her exposed skin, it’s as clear and unscarred as ever. Covered in more freckles than he’s used to for sure, but it’s been sunny lately. Not much else is to be expected. After checking one more time, Rantaro decides that Mukuro is probably uninjured, and meets her gaze again. It’s difficult to read the look on her face. Mukuro is excellent at masking off her emotions. It’s one of the first things he noticed about her. Her lip twitches a bit under his gaze though; she averts her eyes.

“I’m okay, I’m--” Mukuro starts, but breaks off almost immediately after, and before Rantaro can say anything (push for more information, ask her if she’s sure, ask why she’s here) Mukuro reaches up to cover her face with one hand and starts to cry.

Well, okay. Rantaro’s never actually seen her crying before and his first impulse is to panic, or do something stupid like cry too, but that would probably make Mukuro feel like shit, so he reigns in the urge. Instead, he says something very intelligent and soothing, “Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” and shifts over so that rather than standing in front of her, he’s standing at her side, an arm awkwardly raised over her shoulder. “Can I hug you? Mukuro?” he asks, and waits for Mukuro to give a nod (still covering her face) before sliding an arm around her shoulders in a side hug.

Actually, a full on hug would probably be better for comforting purposes, but based on how hard she’s shaking, it would probably be better if he had her sit down, and that makes hugging like that awkward.

“C’mon, let’s sit down,” Rantaro urges quietly, squeezing her shoulder with one hand. Mukuro nods again, and her hand lowers down so that it’s only covering her mouth, not her eyes, but her eyes remain closed, and then Rantaro has to look away because his stomach physically turns over on itself when he sees her eyes screwed shut like they are. (She just needs to cry it out and they can talk about it when she’s more collected. Rantaro should stop being a baby.) He gently guides Mukuro so that they can both sit down on his mattress. He miscalculates how far away his bed actually is from the window, though, and his knees end up knocking against the bed before he expects them to, but-- it’s fine. Mukuro was going a bit slower than he was at any rate. She sinks to sit down on top of his comforter and turns her face so that it’s buried in his shoulder.

It’d probably be pretty rude to think too hard about this, huh? Maybe Mukuro will stop crying and decide she doesn’t want to talk about it. Which would be totally, completely understandable. Rantaro hasn’t cried in front of another person in years. He and Mukuro kind of have a lot in common in that area. She’ll probably feel mortified after she stops. Rantaro lifts his other, free hand, and runs it through her hair, pushing it back from her face so it doesn’t get plastered to her cheeks with the tears. (He can feel a wet patch forming on his t-shirt but frankly he has other priorities right at this moment.)

One of Mukuro’s hand shifts as well, but only to curl up into a fist in the fabric of Rantaro’s shirt. Her knuckles, Rantaro notices when he glances down, are white. He bites his lip but lets it be, choosing to keep stroking her hair rather than reaching down and relaxing her hand. Maybe it’s grounding for her. When Rantaro has breakdowns and he’s not around anyone else he gets the most out of slamming his fists down on the ground. Not for any real reason. If it was a person he definitely wouldn’t take his upset out on them in that way. But punching something hard like marble, that won’t give, it helps release some of his pent up energy. At least when his knuckles start to bleed it distracts from the unbearable loudness of everything in his head.

Mukuro’s cries are silent. If not for the wetness on his shoulder and the shaking in hers, she could be merely resting her head, getting a brief reprieve from whatever it is that’s been troubling her. It’s (it being Rantaro’s shoulder) fair game for her to rest. They’re best friends, after all.

Of course, Rantaro’s trying kind of hard not to think about that right now because he’s never truly had a best friend before, beyond his sisters, and the fact that Mukuro is so upset is twisting a knot right in his sternum. A lump is gonna build in his throat when that reaches his peak and then he’ll be crying too. It’s not that he’s a sympathetic crier, not in the way that Gonta and Tsumugi, a couple of his classmates, are. It’s just that he’s always been so  _ bad  _ at seeing the people he cares about in pain. Whenever he even briefly considers the possibility that something unspeakably bad might’ve happened to one of his sisters, he has to distract himself immediately or else he’ll tear his hair out.

There is another long moment of silence, punctuated only by sharp breaths on Mukuro’s end, and then, after a while, the occasional hiccup. Rantaro’s hand in her hair slows and then stills, his fingers resting loosely on the back of his neck. Mukuro’s grip on his shirt relaxes, and then her hand falls, still partially closed, onto his knee. She doesn’t move it away and Rantaro doesn’t nudge it either. They sit like that for a while. When Mukuro’s hiccuping stops, she turns her head so that she’s facing the interior of his room, avoiding his gaze.

Rantaro assumes that she’s working up the courage to speak, and so he doesn’t say anything at all.

After what might be a few minutes or thirty, Mukuro whispers, “Sorry. I should’ve called first.”

“Yeah?” Rantaro allows a faint chuckle, if only to break the tension in the room. It seems to work, because he can feel Mukuro’s cheek against his shoulder as she smiles, if begrudgingly. “Seems like you had other concerns. I don’t mind. I like a midnight visitor at my window every now and again. Keeps me on my toes, y’feel?

“I guess. Look--” Mukuro sits up, and Rantaro allows both of his arms to fall to his sides as she pulls one of her sleeves over her hand wipes the tears from her cheeks, reaching up with her other to run her fingers through her hair. Her eyes are still red-rimmed from all the crying, which is to be expected, but Rantaro doesn’t like the way her brows are pressing together in anxiety. When they’re alone, Mukuro is typically more expressive. That impassivity earlier at the window was probably just her trying to hold back tears. Even so, seeing her look so visibly distraught makes him want to cry a little bit for what is like, the third time this evening. “I’m okay.”

There isn’t really a  _ good  _ response to that. Rantaro raises his eyebrows at her but maintains a relaxed expression. Mukuro is smart enough to know that he’s not going to accept  _ that  _ little of an explanation, much less so blatant of a lie. If she says she doesn’t want to talk about it then that’s what it’s going to be, but they both know he’s not stupid. And he’d be a pretty lousy friend if he didn’t pressure her at least a little bit.

“Really,” Mukuro forces a laugh that sounds strangled and weak to, hopefully, them both. She averts her gaze, staring down instead at her hands, which are now clenched in her lap. One of her hands is still covered by her sleeve, but on the other her fingernails appear to be digging into her palm. Rantaro feels justified this time in reaching out to uncurl her fingers, squeezing her hand gently before pulling away. Mukuro’s shoulders tense and relax. “It was just a stupid--” she blinks hard, shaking her head. “Just-- typical--”

“Your sister?” Rantaro asks quietly. Mukuro gives him a sharp look, opening her mouth and sucking a breath, but whatever harsh rebuttal she’s preparing, she doesn’t give it the chance to escape. She keeps her silence instead, clenching her jaw and turning her head to the side.

Eventually, she grits out, “Yeah. My sister.” Her short, tense response is accompanied by a huff of air, and then her shoulders relax all over again, as though the anger is draining out of her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have geared up.”

“I shouldn’t have guessed,” Rantaro says mildly. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Not particularly, no,” Mukuro shakes her head, black hairs whipping around as she does so. Her hair is getting a bit longer, it’s going to be long enough to brush her shoulders soon. Rantaro wonders if she’s due for a haircut, or if she’s intentionally growing it out. He’ll ask another time, maybe, if her hair is still getting longer when he sees her again. “Look, I’m-- sorry. Thanks for the cry. I should probably go, I--”

“Want to go downstairs and make something?” Rantaro asks. “Sorry for cutting you off,” he adds with a wry smile in respond to the raised-eyebrow look she shoots in his direction. “I’ve just been craving brownies for a while but I don’t like baking unless I’m doing it with someone, or for someone, or something. Plus, the cook gets mad whenever I go in the kitchen because I generally make a mess, but she’s off work right now.”

Mukuro’s eyebrows remain raised, despite having already conveyed her incredulity, but the corner of her mouth twitches. “If making a mess is a concern, maybe we shouldn’t go down there. I have pretty vivid memories of a flour fight last time we--”

“Shhhh,” Rantaro reaches out to cover her mouth with his hand. “If you don’t bully me again, that won’t ha--  _ did you really just lick me?”  _ Rantaro yanks his hand away, wiping it on his pants. “Gross, gross, gross, you’re like Ouma, what the f--”

“You deserved it,” Mukuro accuses. “And if I recall correctly weren’t  _ you  _ the one who initiated the flour fight in the first place?”

“Prove it,” Rantaro says. “Do you have evidence that I was the one who started it last time?”

“No, but I know that you’re both weak and susceptible to tickle torture.”

“Fair enough, I started it.”

At this, Mukuro laughs, covering her mouth with a hand, and Rantaro grins, feeling something in his stomach shift back into place. There it is, her smile. They’ll probably talk more about the whole crying thing later, when the incident is less fresh in Mukuro’s mind. Maybe at three in the morning over text messages. That’s usually how things go down between the two of them.

(Maybe someday Rantaro will even be ready to cry in front of her, too.)

Right now, though, he gets to his feet and offers her the hand that she licked. Mukuro, of course, is not to be tricked; she grabs a handful of his comforter and uses it to protect her hand like some kind of a glove before accepting his offer of help and hoisting herself to her feet. It’s more of a courtesy than much else because Mukuro is like, four times stronger than him and could probably jump over his head using his hand as leverage, but really, that’s just plain rude.

“What, my hand and my pants aren’t enough? Had to get your icky Muku germs on my blanket, too?” Rantaro frowns at her, trying hard to maintain a serious expression while she grins at him like that. Mukuro laughs in his face, and after Rantaro manages to hide away the pleased face he wants to make, he resorts to pouting.

“Okay, okay, stop, you overgrown puppy,” Mukuro snorts, reaching up to mess up his hair.

“I styled this  _ specifically  _ for this occasion, you jerk,” Rantaro says; a lie, as he was planning on going to bed around half an hour ago, but it doesn’t need to be stated. Mukuro knows.

“That sounds like a serious case of the you problems, Rantaro,” she returns, bumping his shoulder with hers. She tosses his blanket back on his bed. “I bet you make brownies like some softie boyfriend who has a flower garden that he waters on the regular.”

“If you trampled my gardenias on your way up to my window, I’m going to file a lawsuit,” Rantaro tells her, but doesn’t pull away when she loops her arm through his. Business as usual. Rantaro pretends he doesn’t notice the shaky quality of her inhalations. Mukuro’s smiles are even more genuine right now. She’s probably coasting off all the endorphins from crying. As they step out of his room, Rantaro flicks off the light. “We should make a blanket fort too. Just because, y’know?”

“Huh,” Mukuro seems to consider his words as they walk down the stairs. “I’ve never done that before. Is it any different from making a tent out of a couple blankets and pillows?”

“Not that metal and way more luxurious,” Rantaro assures. “We’re not undergoing a pillow and blanket shortage in the Amami household.”

“I’ll have to see it to believe it,” Mukuro replies. Rantaro grins at her, and she grins back, her grey eyes dancing with what Rantaro considers to be some hard-earned mirth.

(When they’re in the kitchen, though, and Rantaro is raiding the pantry for important ingredients like sprinkles and baking soda, Mukuro tucks an arm around his middle from behind in a brief yet lingering hug. She doesn’t have to say anything as she pulls away. Rantaro understands what she’s trying to tell him. He plants a kiss on the top of her head later before teasing her about the way she mixes the batter.)

**Author's Note:**

> again the song doesn't have Anything to do with the contents of this piece i just thought it was fitting for the title
> 
> also dear evan hansen gets me in my feels like.... if ben platt walked into my house rn and sang a song while robbing me then yeah that'd be okay what a splendid voice
> 
> um, i'm not putting this in my rantaro and mukuro friendship ficlets just because it's not in the same universe? at least not specifically idk i didn't want to dilute the content of the fic by having rantaro say shit like "mukuro is the only person whose calls he cares about aside from kiyo!!" anyway just Know that amaguji is super canon in that universe
> 
> these two are out here, being babey. shit.
> 
> i gotta write that amamota sickfic man i'm dying
> 
> uhhhh
> 
> y'all lit as hell idk what else to say these two get me in my soul


End file.
